Sense no Evil
by Lucy Hale
Summary: Darien and Hobbes go to Cascade, WA, on the search for a Sentinel. Crossover.


"Detective James Ellison."

Darien Fawkes smirked at the face that appeared on the Official's screen. "Looks like he has an Army uniform shoved up his ass." 

The Official barely glanced back at the photo of the short-haired, stern-looking man. "He's ex-military," he confirmed simply. "Working for the police department in Cascade, Washington. You boys are going to go make friends with him."

"Any particular reason, or are you worried we don't have enough kids to play with?" 

Again the Official ignored the sarcasm dripping from Darien's voice. That was one thing he had become good at since hiring the young man on -- ignoring sarcasm. "Here's the reason." He nodded back at his assistant.

Eberts flipped a control, and the frowning face was replaced by some long-haired kid behind a podium. "This is Blair Sandburg, Ellison's partner."

"That guy's a cop?" Bobby Hobbes spoke up finally, unable to contain his surprise. 

"Unofficial. An observer."

"A what?"

The Boss shrugged. "Doesn't matter. He's written a very interesting thesis around Ellison, one I want the two of you to investigate. In it, he claims Ellison is something called a Sentinel. That basically means his senses work about a hundred times better than normal people's."

Darien shrugged. "What's the big deal?"

"He'd be a handy person to have on our team, gentlemen. Sandburg issued a press conference stating that his thesis was a fraud, but we want to be sure. That's where the two of you come in."

Bobby was strangely stiff in his seat. "You want us to go all the way to Washington to play recruiter for some guy just because he's got good eyes?"

"Eyes, ears, nose, the works. A man with the abilities Sandburg wrote about could hear voices another building over. He could read license plates from a couple of blocks away. He could--"

Darien shook his head with a grin. "You can't be serious."

"I'm very serious. Other agencies interested in Ellison seem to rather believe Sandburg was making the entire thing up, but we--"

"No way." Darien stood from his chair and moved to the door, flipping the lights on in the office and dimming Blair Sandburg from view. "No way you're gonna make me sucker some poor guy to come work for you the way you suckered me."

"This isn't about making any deals. You let us handle that part of it."

"Yeah, that's something you do really well. You want us to find something Ellison can't live without and then blackmail him with it? Is that it?"

"I want you to go to Cascade. I want you to find out what Ellison can do, and then report back to me. That's it."

Darien hesitated. "We don't have to force him back here?"

"You don't have to say hello to the man, as far as I'm concerned. In fact, the less contact with him, the better. You keep your distance, and learn what you can."

"Oh. In that case, sure. Sounds a lot less dangerous than most of the crap you try and assign us."

"I don't like it."

There was a small silence as all eyes turned to Bobby Hobbes, still slouched in his chair and eyeing the dim screen.

"You what?" the Boss asked, surprised.   


The normally gung-ho, everything-for-the-Agency, ask-no-questions agent repeated himself. "I don't like it. Sounds pointless to me."

Darien couldn't hide his own surprise that his partner would speak out against something directly to the Boss's face. "It does?"

There was an odd look in Bobby's eyes as he turned to face them. "Sure. Sounds like something this kid invented to get his degree. Sentinels? Come on. Sounds like a comic book. You're gonna waste our time taking this thing seriously when the Feds and the NSA have already lost interest?"

"That's the order, Hobbes." The Official obviously wasn't in the mood for a debate. "You guys have plane tickets for Cascade. You've got two hours to pack and get your asses to the airport."

"Yeah? So what if hero here needs a shot while we're gone?"

"We're sending a supply of the Counteragent with you, Hobbes. It'll last about two days, so if you're gonna go invisible for this case, Darien, do it in the next couple of days. If you somehow need more after that, I'd suggest you use the phone pretty fast."

"Great." Darien glanced over at Bobby. "Guess we'd better get packing."

Bobby rose from his chair. "Whatever. We'll be back tomorrow."

"Hobbes, this may be for real. I'd suggest you take this seriously."

"Yeah, right. Seriously." Bobby moved out of the office past Darien before the boss could say anything else.

Darien followed him quickly, and the moment the door was shut behind them and they were alone in the corridor, his attitude changed. "Bobby, what's wrong here?"

"Whaddaya mean?"

"I mean, what are you arguing for? What happened to the yes-man I know and love?"

Bobby smirked slightly. "This doesn't sound like some bad sci-fi TV show or something to you?"

"What? The Sentinel thing? At this point I don't really care. We're getting out of town for a few days, away from the Agency, the taps on the phones, the spies. The two of us. Alone. Like a vacation." Darien flashed a friendly grin.

Bobby's smirk transformed into a more sincere smile. "Put it that way, this doesn't sound too bad."

"Yeah. We watch this guy for a couple of hours, long enough to make sure this is all bullshit, then we go explore the city for a couple of days and call in some creative reports. And after that, we have a whole weekend to ourselves."

Bobby was practically grinning by the end of that. "Well, hell. I should go back in there and tell the fat man thanks."

Darien reached out and slung an oh-so-casual arm around his partner's shoulder and they continued the stroll towards the elevator.

****

"Something's wrong here."

Blair Sandburg sent a look to his partner. "What is it?"

Jim Ellison's hands were curled around the steering wheel, his eyes going back to the rear-view mirror every few seconds. "I think we're being followed."

"What?" True to form, Blair reacted without the slightest bit of common sense, turning in his seat and staring right out the rear windshield of the truck. "Where?"

Jim reached out and pushed him back around. "A few cars back. Black Taurus."

Blair looked through the rear-view mirror on his side of the truck, and shook his head after a minute. "I don't know how you spotted that." His blue eyes gleamed with a sudden energy.

Jim raised a hand, responding to that look before Blair could speak. "No. It has nothing to do with my senses, Sandburg. It's about being a cop. You learn to develop instincts over things like this." Truthfully, though, something deep inside him was tugging at him, something that went beyond trained cop reflexes. 

Something was bad here. Something about that car was just wrong.

Blair pushed wayward brown curls out of his face, going from watching the black car to looking at his partner. "You ever wonder if you have a better sense of it than other cops? I mean, the Sentinel instincts don't always have to be alone in and of themselves. Maybe some of the psychological aspects to being a Sentinel blended with your police instincts, making you a little more sharp than most --"

"You gotta analyze everything to death, don't you, Darwin?"

Blair shrugged, not the least put out with Jim's lack of cooperation. "We should look into it, though."

Jim glanced over, almost amused. "Can I shake this guy first, or you want to invite him to take part in the test?"

"Oh, shake him. By all means."

Jim obeyed, jerking the wheel to the right suddenly and pulling into a small side road and hitting the gas, sending the truck barreling forward. 

From the rearview mirror, he could see the car turning and coming after them.

He smiled grimly. "I've got a better idea."

"Uh. Jim, don't do anything dumb."

Jim eased on the gas until the car was close behind them, then jerked the wheel again, turning the truck on the street so that it was blocking both lanes of the small road. 

The car behind them jerked sharply, braking just in time to avoid hitting them.

"Stay here," Jim said as he jumped out of the truck, gun in hand.

"No problem," Blair answered, ducking down a little bit even as he turned to watch the action out Jim's window. 

Jim marched up to the car, and the door of the Taurus opened. A shorter man stepped out, watching Jim approach with a neutral expression, neither openly friendly nor hostile. 

Jim came closer, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose. He had the sudden, deep instinct to drive this guy, whoever he was, out of his city. As far from Jim as humanly possible.

Instead he just marched up, his gun held tightly at his side. "Wanna tell me why you're following me, pal?"

"Wasn't following you." The shorter man held his door open as he stood beside it for a long moment, glancing back inside the car and then shutting the door a moment later. "These are free roads, aren't they?"

"Not following me, huh? So where are you going?"

"I'm just exploring the city," the man replied, his words growing harder every second. "I'm new in town. You got a problem?"

Jim opened his mouth to reply, but felt a sudden small, slight brush of air hit him. Like someone had just walked past him, and closely. 

But no one was there. 

He tensed. "Why don't you get in your car and turn around. Go explore somewhere else."

The man glared, and opened his mouth to snap back. Something stopped him, though. Some thought must have occurred to him, maybe he was just realizing how big Jim was, or that he had a gun in his hand.

He kept the glare but stayed silent as he got back in the car and slammed the door shut, starting the engine without a pause and executing a neat three-point-turn to head back down the road.

Jim stood watching long enough to see the car turn back onto the main road and get lost in traffic, and then he headed back for the truck.

The door opened, and Blair climbed out. "What's up? Who was that guy?"

"I don't know," Jim practically growled back. "Get back in the truck."

Blair's eyebrows shot up. "Whoa. Somebody tense all the sudden?"

"Get in the truck, Sandburg."

Blair studied him for a minute, but obeyed. 

Jim got in after him and shut the door, checking the rearview mirror suspiciously before starting the truck and turning them back into the lane.

Blair noticed the tension running through him. "What's up, Jim? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Jim said shortly. He wasn't about to tell Sandburg what he himself didn't understand. Why the very presence of the guy in that car had made him angry and paranoid and defensive. 

Why he had a bad feeling that the guy was still on his tail, somehow, even though the car was nowhere in sight.

****

Darien sat in the truck, hoping these guys reached their destination fast. He couldn't stay invisible much longer, not if Bobby was going to keep his distance. He'd have another twenty minutes or so before he'd have to get a shot. 

This plan seemed strange to him, but Bobby was convinced it would work. He said the best way to determine if this guy Ellison was really a Sentinel would be to stick with him. He was supposed to follow Ellison and Sandburg to their place and stick close for a while. 

If Ellison was a Sentinel, he would pick up on Darien's presence. Bobby said that having an extra heartbeat around when there was no one there would be enough to drive Ellison up the wall if he was for real.

Seemed like a logical plan.

Darien just hoped it wouldn't take Ellison too long, and that Bobby would be close by. If he had to stay invisible, and there wasn't any counteragent nearby, he didn't want to think what he'd do when that madness took over.

The truck pulled to a stop in front of a brick building. Darien hopped out of the back of the truck and followed the cop and his 'observer' through an unmarked door. Apartments. 

They headed for the elevator, and Darien frowned. Close, confined space. He'd have to play it safe. But he had no other choice, This was going to be the one time he could use Quicksilver before the Counteragent went bad, so he had to stick with these guys.

Ten minutes he'd been invisible. Twenty minutes left, max. It was going to be a little too close for comfort.

He slipped into the elevator beside them and hugged the door. 

Bobby had seemed convinced Jim Ellison, if he was truly a Sentinel, would be able to tell Darien was there, but right then Ellison and Sandburg were relaxed and chatting, not searching out invisible people.

"So you're giving me a break tonight, right? No tests, no questions."

Blair was grinning an easy grin that told Darien there was no way the guy was a cop. Cops didn't beam like that. "Sure thing, man. But it is my turn to cook dinner, right?"

"No. No way. I'm not gonna sit through taste tests with spices tonight. We have steaks. Cook 'em."

"You're no fun, man."

"All I ask is one night of peace, Blair."

"Yeah, yeah."

The elevator lurched slightly and started to open. 

Darien shot out of the confined space before they were even moving. He pressed against a wall to let the two men pass by. 

So they lived together. Maybe they were partners in more ways than one. 

Bobby would just love that. Darien could hear the comments now.

Jim unlocked a door and they two men went inside. Darien had to crouch down and breeze past Sandburg a moment before the door was shut.

Now he was stuck. Nothing to do but hang around and hope Bobby was right about Ellison.

"So, you really want me to abandon all my principles and cook two hunks of red meat for dinner tonight."

"Principles? Sandburg, as hard as it is for you to remember, you're a red-blooded American guy. We eat steak. Every once in awhile we allow ourselves a barely warmed, bloody hunk of cow. Accept it."

Blair made a face as he headed for the open-air kitchen of the spacious loft. "As appetizing as that sounds, I think I'll pass. You want cholesterol poisoning before you're fifty, fine. I'll cook you a cow hunk. Me, I'm going for pasta."

Jim chuckled as he headed for a stairway into the loft bedroom.

Darien stood there for a moment, looking back and forth between the two men. Maybe Bobby was right, and Jim had to know something was there before he started trying to listen for it. Maybe something had to happen to clue him in before he'd listen for that extra person in the room with him. 

Ten minutes to make that happen.

As if on cue, the phone rang. 

Sandburg grabbed it from the kitchen. "Yello?" There was a pause, and from the furrowing of Blair's brow, Darien just knew who it was. "Yeah, hang on." He set the phone down. "Jim? It's for you!"

"Who is it?"

"No idea. They just asked for Ellison."

Yep. Bobby. Darien moved further into the living room area, settling himself for the experiment.

Jim padded down stairs and to the phone. "Ellison." He got the same furrowed-brow look that Blair had. "Who is this?" A moment later he was staring at the phone, and his eyes went around the loft suspiciously. He hung the phone up almost absently and turned to Blair. "Just stay in the kitchen, Blair."

"What's going on?"

"I don't know, but our mystery caller informed me that we're not alone in here."

Darien tensed. Now was the big moment. Would Ellison stomp around peeking through doors with his gun in his hand, or was there really something special about this cop?

Blair Sandburg answered the question for Darien. He went up to Jim and rested a hand on his shoulder. "You hear anyone?"

Ellison concentrated for a minute, and his eyes jerked. "Shit. There _is _someone here. I can hear their heartbeat."

Darien's mouth dropped open. It was true. This guy was a superhuman freak who could hear his heart beating from across an apartment. 

Jim frowned and left the kitchen, walking straight into the living room and towards Darien. 

Darien moved around the couch and back towards the kitchen silently. 

Jim stopped in his tracks with a frown and turned, his eyes almost following Darien's movements. "Blair…"

"What's wrong?"

"Someone's there." Jim was confused and it showed. He came forward jerkily, back towards the kitchen.

Darien skirted around Blair and around the other side of he counter.

"Jim? What's wrong?"

"Someone's here. Right here. I can hear…"

Blair left the kitchen and reached his partner's side. "Jim? Tell me what's going on here."

"I can hear his heart! I can hear him breathing. He's right there!" Jim pointed right at Darien. Right at the empty air where Darien was standing.

It was unnerving, but it was what Darien had been told to expect. He stayed where he was, ready to move out of the way if they got too close.

Blair followed Jim's finger and frowned. "Jim…"

"I know! I know no one's there. But I swear…" Jim shook his head as if trying to clear it, but his eyes unerringly found Darien's position again. "Shit, I'm going nuts."

"Stay calm, man. It's okay. There's some reasonable explanation for this."

Darien moved again, this time heading slowly for the door. The Official had been proven right. That was all his mission called for, and he was getting dangerously tense and nervous. Five more minutes, and if he wasn't out and with Bobby for a shot…

Jesus. He could be stranded in a strange city, completely out of his mind.

__

God, Bobby, don't let that happen to me, please.

Jim moved suddenly, reaching the door in a flash and blocking it. "No you don't," he said quietly.

Darien grimaced and changed direction, moving this time towards Sandburg. He had to get to the door, which meant Ellison had to get out of the way.

"Jim? What are you doing?"

"Blair, he's right by you! Shit, what's going on here?"

Blair looked around uncertainly, and Darien stayed close. 

__

Come on, Ellison. Protect your partner. Get away from the door.

At that moment, a flash of agony sliced with red-hot fire into the back of his head, and Darien grabbed the back of his neck, letting out a small cry.

Blair wheeled around. "I heard him!"

Darien stumbled away, his lips pressed tightly together to avoid another sound. He flinched as another knife drove into his head, and he knew that if he were visible his eyes would be filling slowly with redness.

There was a sudden distant pounding. Outside of his head, Darien realized. The door.

Ellison spun around. "What?" he barked out probably before he could help himself.

"Federal Agent, let me in."

Bobby. Darien would have relaxed, breathed a sigh of relief, if he weren't struggling to hold on to his sanity for a few moments longer.

Jim opened the door a crack. "Badge."

Bobby must have flashed his badge, because the door was opening and he was inside a moment later.

He knew. Darien could tell Bobby knew that there was no time left for secrecy. "Fawkes? Where are you?"

"What the hell--"

Bobby pushed past the large cop and kept moving. "Darien? Come on, kid, I know you're close."

Darien's eyes caught on the small case Bobby held, and he forced the gray blanket of madness aside long enough to let the Quicksilver fall off of him, leaving him red-eyed and panting in the middle of the loft.

There were audible gasps, and Darien's eyes flashed to Sandburg and Ellison, who were side by side staring at him. 

Bobby dropped the case on the coffee table in their living room and wasted no time getting the syringe out. "Alright, Fawkes, you just hold still right there."

Darien's mind screamed at him to move, to rip into the little guy with the needle. To tear the faces off those gawking men behind him. 

But his body was, thankfully, reluctant to act. A shred of Darien remained, and that shred forced his body into stillness as Bobby approached.

Bobby grabbed his arm and twisted it where he needed to find a vein, and with a stinging jab the coolness of counteragent was sliding through Darien's veins, sending the monster inside out of his body. 

Darien sagged, and Bobby caught him and lowered him to sit on the couch. "Easy, Fawkes. Get your breath."

"What the hell…"

Bobby glanced behind him, and frowned. "Shit," he said quietly, to Darien. "So much for an easy mission."

"Who the hell are you? What is he?"

Bobby dropped a hand on Darien's arm briefly before he straightened and faced the cop. "Federal Agents. That's all you need to know. Don't worry, we're getting out of here."

"Oh no you're not. You want to tell me how he did that? And why he was in my house?"

"Just an experiment, Detective Ellison. Nothing for you to worry about."

"Bullshit! This guy was invisible!"

Bobby's thin patience snapped. "Yeah, and you're a Sentinel. I guess we know each other's secrets now. What do you want to do about it?"

Jim faltered at that, but his eyes narrowed as he studied Bobby. "You were following us earlier."

"Smart guy." Bobby turned back to Darien. "You okay, Fawkes?"

Darien nodded, getting to his feet slowly. "I'm good. Thanks."

Bobby flashed a tight smile, then turned to the other two men. "Ellison, we're leaving."

"Nobody is leaving until I get some answers. Why were you sneaking around my home?" 

Darien shrugged. "To get proof."

"Proof?"

Sandburg spoke up now, his voice quiet but grim. "That you're a Sentinel."

Jim glanced back, and his eyes went hard as they turned back to the two strangers. "Son of a bitch."

Blair was a little calmer. "So what happens now? You're Feds?"

"Not exactly." Darien was sympathetic. He knew exactly what it felt like to be an outsider thinking he was backed into a corner by this Agency. 

"Fawkes." Bobby's voice rose in warning. "We're getting out of here."

Darien frowned back at him. "Come on, Bobby. Don't you think we owe these guys a little--"

"No. No contact. Those were orders." Bobby's voice was quiet, but of course, Jim heard him.

"Orders? If you're not Feds, who are you?"

"Federal Agents," Bobby replied, not giving an inch.

"Bullshit."

The three men all turned to Blair. 

He was pissed, and although it was a quieter anger than Jim's, it was obvious. "You don't know the stuff we've been through keeping this a secret. You don't know what we've given up. If you're going to blow it now, the least you can do is tell us who it is that's ruining our lives."

Bobby's jaw tightened, but he didn't give his automatic answer. His eyes went to Jim.

The detective flashed a look at him, and something dangerous seemed to spike in the air between them. The two men tensed, sizing each other up silently.

Aware of the rise in tension, Darien looked at Blair. "We're not trying to ruin your life here," he said quietly. It was the truth, even though he knew that when the Official found out Jim Ellison was really a Sentinel, their lives would be ruined regardless. Just like his was. "We just wanted to know the truth."

"Who wanted to know?" Jim gritted out in reply, his eyes staying on Bobby.

"The Agency we work for," Darien answered. "It's no one you've ever heard of, believe me."

"So now what? Now that you know, what happens?"

Darien shot a look at Bobby. "Good question."

Bobby tore his eyes from Jim and looked over. "We do our jobs," he answered plainly. "We do what we're ordered to."

"So…what? I become some freak your agency wants to experiment on? Or some secret weapon like this guy here?" Jim's head swung towards Darien, then back to Bobby. "No way in hell. Blair's right; we've fought and bled and given up a lot to stay a secret, and it's not changing now."

"Are you threatening us?" Bobby's voice was dangerously soft. 

"I'm telling you. You try and recruit me, or turn me into a lab rat, and I'll fight it. To the death."

"Jim. Calm down."

"No! Sandburg, you just lost everything because you lied to everyone about your thesis. You lied to protect me, and I'm not going to let some nameless Agency come in and trash that sacrifice."

Bobby raised his eyebrows and folded his arms over his chest. "Just what are you prepared to do to stop us?"

Jim's hands were fists. "What are you prepared to do to get me out of the way?"

Silence fell.

Darien broke it, moving forward and grabbing Bobby's shoulder. "No contact means no fighting," he said quietly. 

Bobby glanced back at him, his frown deepening. "The Official didn't expect this."

"What?"

He gestured at Darien. 

Darien frowned. They knew his secret. Any threats the Agency could make to get Ellison to work for them could just be countered. Ellison could expose them just as they could expose him. And all because he needed a damned shot of counteragent.

Honestly, though, it didn't disturb him too much. So they wouldn't be able to get this man to work for them. Good for Ellison. If Darien had had something to hold over them in exchange for his freedom, he would have used it in a moment.

Now he just had to get him and Bobby out of there without this testosterone match ending with someone hurt, and they'd be free and clear.

Echoing his thoughts, Blair Sandburg spoke up, the voice of reason. "There's got to be some way to resolve this." He moved up to his own partner and touched Jim on the shoulder.

Jim seemed to relax under the smaller man's touch, but his eyes stayed on Bobby. "They can get the hell out of this city and keep their mouths shut about us."

Blair seemed surprised by the level of anger in his friend's voice. "Jim. Relax. We can work something out here. Right, guys?" He looked to Bobby and Darien for confirmation. 

Darien nodded. "Right. Let's just sit down and relax. Bobby…"

Ina split second, Bobby tore himself away from Darien. He had his gun pulled and lined on the other two men before Darien could blink. "We're leaving," he said firmly.

Darien swallowed. "Uh, Hobbes…"

Jim's eyes pierced into the Agent, sliced with rage. 

Bobby moved the gun carefully between Jim and Blair. "Fawkes. Take the counteragent and go to the door. Now."

Darien opened his mouth to reply, but something in Bobby's tone got to him. He'd never seen his partner so…deadly. When Bobby got angry, it was usually a loud kind of anger. Not this quiet coldness that seemed to be on him now. "Bobby…"

His partner's eyes turned to him briefly, cold slits of brown that didn't change when they took in Darien's hesitancy. 

Darien grabbed the case reluctantly and moved towards the door, keeping his eyes on the two men glaring at his partner.

Bobby held the gun in hands that were steady as a rock. "Now. If we have anything else to say to you, we will contact you. Just remember before you go looking for us that we're federal agents, and we can lock both of you up where you won't ever be found."

"Bobby." Darien couldn't stop the objection from passing his lips. "Let's go."

Bobby moved steadily past the cop and observer, and followed Darien to the door and out into the hall.

They went down the stairs quickly without saying a word. Bobby had double parked in front of the building in his rush to get to his partner before the madness hit, and they reached the car and peeled out in record time. 

Darien didn't talk until they were safely on the road. "Okay," he said shakily. "We're gonna go back to the hotel, you're gonna take every pill you've ever been prescribed, and then you're gonna tell me what the hell is the matter with you."

Bobby's eyes, still hard, flitted over to him as he drove, but he didn't say a word.

****

  
"Robert Hobbes." Brian Rafe shoved a stack of papers on Jim's desk with a thump. 

Jim took in the inch-thick stack with eyebrows raised. "This is all him?"

Rafe nodded, obviously annoyed. "Do something for me, Ellison? Next time you need a quick favor, make sure your definition of 'quick' is the same as mine. I had to route through a ton of stuff to get you this."

"Sorry." Jim started flipping through the files.

Rafe let out a snort. "Some day I may actually believe you when you say that." He turned and headed for his own desk.

Jim ignored the younger detective, already caught up in researching the man who had invaded his apartment and held him and his partner at gunpoint hours before. 

An hour later, he had no better idea of what was going on with Hobbes.

There were FBI files, NSA, police files, arrest records and mysterious dismissals of charges. There were brief reports of military service and other government agencies that were way too sketchy, and had references to files Jim would bet were highly classified. 

There was no sign of who Hobbes was working for now, but if Hobbes had gone renegade there was no sign of that, either. 

"Jim?"

He jumped, surprised out of his thoughtful stupor. His eyes went up to meet his partner's amused gaze. "Sandburg."

"Losing your focus in your old age, huh?"

"Yeah, right." Jim slid the stack towards him. "Here's everything I could find on Hobbes. There's really nothing good there. A lot of dead ends and mysterious cases."

"Sounds like a good Fed," Blair smirked as he sat on the corner of the desk, flipping through the stack absently. 

"No. He's not a Fed anymore. The files on him stop about three years ago."

Blair's eyes snapped up. "You think he's like Kincaid? Renegade?"

Jim shook his head. "There are mentions of other assignments, run ins he's had with the FBI or the police that are always dismissed. And he never pretended to be a part of the FBI. He just called himself a federal agent."

"So…what does that mean?"

Jim shrugged. "There are a lot more government agencies out there that even I know about. My guess is he belongs to something that's so low-profile I haven't even heard of it."

"What about Darien Fawkes?"

A voice rang out beside Blair. "Convict."

"What?"

Henri Brown appeared with a much smaller stack of papers. "Here. Your boy Fawkes is a thief. Last thing his records say is that he was sentenced to prison for life, but got some kind of weird medical reprieve."

"So he was recruited by whatever agency Hobbes works for."

"I got no idea." Brown dropped the papers. "Is that it, Ellison? Can we work on our own cases now?"

Jim grinned briefly. "Thanks for your help, Brown. I appreciate it."

"You're this close to sincerity, man." Brown left them with a chuckle and headed for his partner.

Blair took a moment to shake his head. "Jim, you know what the teacher said about letting other kids do your homework for you."

Jim shrugged. "What? I was busy."

"Busy sitting here glaring at the world, being pissed off for God knows what reason at two guys you don't even know?"

"What reason? Blair, they came into our home, they blew the secret we've spent the last four years keeping, and they pointed a gun at us. How can you be surprised I'm a little pissed?"

"Look, I trust them. Besides. Darien Fawkes is some kind of experiment, right? Some kind of government project. That's how he got out of prison, and he's obviously as top-secret as we are. We know about them, they know about us. I'm sure we'll reach some kind of agreement."

****

"Bobby."

There was no answer. 

Darien glanced over from where he was now thoughtfully sprawled in a rather uncomfortable hotel chair. "Hobbes."

Bobby looked up, distracted. "What?"

"Are you gonna talk to me or what?"

Bobby dropped his eyes back to the bag he was digging through. "About what?"

"About why you went completely Section Eight at that guy Ellison's house, and why we've probably got the entire Cascade PD looking for us."

Bobby shrugged, apparently unconcerned. "Maybe I did it for you. I figured you wouldn't feel at home without cops hunting you down."

"You're a funny guy."

"Thank you."

"I'm serious."

Bobby stopped his hands from pawing through his bag for a brief moment, his eyes going up to Darien. His expression was strangely hooded. "I don't know."

"What?"

"What? What do you mean, what? I don't know."

"You don't know why you went mental?"

"No, Fawkes! I don't know. Jesus."

"Bobby…you haven't been going to any sleep clinics lately, have you?" Darien was reminded too much of a recent case, the one that led to his Keeper almost shooting a man because she was sure he was a threat. But she had no idea how she knew, and she'd never met the man before. Turned out a sleep clinic she'd been too had been used by a couple of hacker punk kids to hypnotize people in their sleep.

Bobby's sharp expression softened with amusement. "A guy like me? Let a bunch of strangers hook me up to machines while I sleep?"

"Good point." Darien slouched back, no less at ease. "So what do we do now?"

Bobby went back to searching his bag. "I don't know."

"Bobby. You're not helping."

"Fawkes. Look, we're kinda in an awkward situation here. Yeah, we got proof that Ellison's this Sentinel, and the Boss is gonna want to know that. But they got proof that you're what you are, and if they don't want to come with us, they got that to hold over our heads. So they're gonna want to make some kind of deal, but the only kinda deal we can make means we'd have to tell the Boss that this guy Sandburg's a phony, which means lying to the Boss, which is something I don't do. Dig?"

Darien frowned. "You really wouldn't lie to protect these guys? Come on, Bobby. They're innocent people. They've done nothing to deserve getting suckered in by the Agency."

"You say that like it's some kind of punishment." Bobby cursed suddenly and dropped the bag, grabbing the second one he'd brought with him. "It's the same kind of work they're doing now, just a little less overt."

"Please. The Agency isn't some nine to five job. They'd be trapped into signing their lives away, just like I was."

Bobby glared up at him. "So what? I don't exactly like the idea of working with that asshole Ellison, but if the boss wants him, the boss gets him."

"Bobby, relax. What is it with you and Ellison? I thought you were gonna tear each other's heads off back there."

Bobby hesitated, then shrugged. "I don't like him."

"Why not? Oh, let me guess. You don't know."

"Hey. I'll have you know that after all the years of service I've pulled I've got instincts as sharp as knives, my friend. And those instincts don't like Ellison one little bit." Bobby threw his second bag down on the bed suddenly. "God dammit!"

"What?" Darien sat up, automatically concerned. 

"I must have left a bag in the car. I'll be back." Bobby stood, grabbing the keys to the rental car and heading for the door.

Darien watched him go silently. Once the door was shut and he was alone in the room, he heaved a sigh.

Bobby was worrying him. Ever since the first briefing about this guy Ellison, Bobby had been acting funny.

Darien and Bobby, they were partners. They were in sync. It had taken a long time for them to get that far from when they'd first met and resented the hell out of each other, but now…now it was Hobbes and Fawkes against the rest of the world.

But they weren't in sync right now. They weren't together on this one. Something was up with Bobby, and he wasn't letting Darien in on it. 

Darien didn't like that. The one thing he'd come to really love about his new life working for the government was his partner. His best friend. There was still a lot he didn't know about Bobby, but they fit well together regardless. So the way Bobby was acting was throwing him off big time. 

The door opened abruptly minutes later and Bobby came in, practically throwing the keys on the table beside where Darien was sitting. "Shit, shit, shit."

"What? What's wrong, Bobby?"

He didn't stop his mantra, going to the bed and picking up the bag he'd just gone through. A quick, fruitless search, and he threw it down. He dropped onto the bed heavily. "Shit."

"Alright, Hobbes. Talk to me. What's wrong?"

"I left…no, I didn't. I couldn't have. I don't forget things like that." He grabbed his other bag.

"Bobby. What did you forget?"

"My pills."

Darien blinked, and realized in a flash that this really was a bad thing. "Oh, crap."

"Yeah." Bobby grimaced. "You weren't lying when you said I needed to take something. Shit, how could I have forgotten…"

"So…what? What do we do?"

Bobby's eyes were apprehensive even as he tried to shrug it off. "Screw it. We sleep. Tomorrow we'll figure out what to do about Ellison, and we'll get on a place and get home. Easy as that."

"Easy. Sure. Are you gonna be--"

"I'm fine," Bobby cut in too quickly. "Let's get some rest. Whatever we decide, we're gonna have to track down Ellison again. And you can bet after tonight that's not gonna be any fun."

****

Jim shifted in his sleep restlessly. 

The strange thing about the jungle dreams was that he knew he was dreaming. Every time, he was aware of the trees around him, the jaguar, the voice of Incacha. But he was also aware of his physical body lying in the dark safety of his own bed. It kept him grounded somewhat.

This time around was no different. He opened his eyes to the strange bluish jungle, and he knew in an instant where he was. The spirit plane, or whatever Sandburg called it. 

There was the jaguar, and Jim was able to relax at the sight of it. The large cat was sitting calmly in a small clearing, staring at him as he sat up on the floor of the jungle. 

Jim stood slowly, knowing better than to approach the animal. 

For a moment, there was silence. Jim stood waiting dutifully, knowing the jaguar would start moving to lead him somewhere, or Incacha would show up to explain things to him.

For a minute, there was only silence and stillness. Then it was broken by a faint rustling in the underbrush, and the appearance of a tiger.

Jim stiffened at the sight of the animal. It wasn't Blair's guide, which made it suspect. It was a large tiger, though smaller than the jaguar. Muscles rippled under dark orange and black striped skin, and large, dark feline eyes went from Jim to the jaguar cautiously.

The jaguar rose on all four legs, tense. It huffed a strange-sounding noise of warning to the tiger, who answered back with a faint growl.

The two animals approached each other slowly and warily. Their ears went back, their eyes locked on the potential enemies, and their footsteps were silent as they stalked towards each other. 

Jim stepped back, away from the two. He had no idea what he was supposed to be learning from this, but he had learned by then to shut up and pay attention. 

From the trees behind the jaguar appeared a familiar animal. A wolf. Blair's wolf. Jim would have known it anywhere. 

Its large, blue eyes gazed out at the scene calmly, watching its ally, the jaguar, approaching the newcomer. 

From the other side, where the tiger had appeared, there was suddenly a fox pushing into sight through the trees. Long and rangy, the fox took one look at the scene and plopped down to the ground, lying lazily as it watched the two circling animals. 

Jim held his breath as the tension mounted. The tiger and the jaguar got closer and closer. The fox stayed relaxed where it was, and the wolf was watching with silent interest. Neither looked like they would jump in if things got dirty.

The jaguar moved suddenly, taking the few short steps needed to close the distance to the tiger. 

Instead of the fight Jim expected, the two animals sniffed each other. They were still wary and defensive, but they didn't attack right off. 

They stood sniffing and watching each other for a long moment, as if trying to figure out what to make of the other. 

Then the tiger huffed a breath and moved slowly, padding away from the jaguar and over to where the fox was lying.

The jaguar moved to the side of its friend the wolf, and the two animals moved together into the trees and out of Jim's sight.

Jim usually would have followed, but something kept him where he was. He watched the tiger as it settled down beside the fox on the ground, and he tried to piece together what it was he had just seen.

He was waiting for the words or the message to appear, but nothing came to him. 

And then suddenly the tiger let out a growl of pain and curled in on itself.

**

Darien's eyes snapped open, and he blinked into the darkness of the hotel room. 

Weird dream. Trees and animals. Not his normal PM fantasy life. He'd followed some fox through the trees until he came up on a couple of other animals about to tear each other's throats out. They didn't though, and one of them, a tiger, came over like he was friends with the fox.

Bizarre. Darien had no idea what to make of it.

Luckily for him, he didn't much care. It wasn't the strangest dream he'd had in his life, by any means. A lot less disturbing than some of the things he saw in his sleep. 

A faint noise reached his ears, and he sat up with a yawn, wondering if something had woken him up. "Bobby?" he said quietly through his yawn.

No answer, but another incoherent noise sounded from his right somewhere. 

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and reached for the lamp, hoping Bobby wouldn't shoot him for waking him up at whatever unnatural hour it was. 

The light snapped on, and the incoherent, tiny noise suddenly rose into a full-out moan of distress.

Darien jumped up the second he saw that Bobby's bed was empty, and he made out the form of his partner on the floor at the other side of the bed, sitting up against the wall, curled in to himself. His eyes were shut tightly, his hands over his ears. 

Darien moved quickly to his side. "Bobby? What is it?" He knelt beside his partner and lay a hand on his shoulder. "Bobb-"

Bobby yanked away with a pained noise, shaking his head hard.

"Whoa. Bobby, what's wrong?" Darien pulled his hand back quickly. "Talk to me, partner. You sleep walking, or…something?"

Bobby didn't answer. He didn't even seem to notice that anyone was there. His eyes slowly and cautiously peeked open, and then slammed shut again as pain contorted his features. 

Darien swallowed, and Bobby flinched at the same time, almost in reaction.

"Bobby?" 

His voice was a hushed whisper, but Bobby's hands tightened over his ears as if he was being deafened.

Suddenly really genuinely worried for his partner, remembering the pills and Bobby's weird behavior the day before, Darien lunged for the phone and started dialing in a hurry. His eyes stayed on Bobby, and he moved back down to the floor beside his partner, scared to death about what was going on with Bobby.

"This is the Keeper."

Darien held his breath. "Claire, I need help."

His voice sent Bobby down to the ground, curling up as some way to protect himself against whatever the hell was happening. 

"Darien? What's wrong?"

"It's not me. Bobby--"

Bobby reached out suddenly and reached an arm out towards him.

Darien almost dropped the phone to take Bobby's hand. 

Bobby flinched at the touch, but held Darien's hand too tightly for him to pull away. "Sandburg."

"What?" Darien did drop the phone at that, grasping at the word. "Sandburg?"

Bobby nodded, releasing his hand. 

"Darien?"

Bobby could hear the Keeper's voice coming from the phone, and he froze, the pain on his face draining away.

Darien's eyes locked on his partner, and with a chill he couldn't hide he watched Bobby's face, his eyes, everything about him drain away and go blank and empty. 

Darien swallowed, but a sense of calm took him over. Now that Bobby didn't seem to be in pain anymore…

He picked the phone up.

"--is going on over there?"

"Claire. Sorry. It's nothing."

"Nothing?" She obviously wasn't buying it.

"Nothing," Darien stressed, his eyes on Bobby's frighteningly empty face. "I need you to find something for me."

"What in the world…Darien, what's--"

"I'm fine, Keeper. Just find the telephone number of Blair Sandburg. I'm sure it's on file there somewhere."

There was a pause. "Are you sure? You're all right? Do you realize what time it is?"

"Please, Claire."

She sighed into the phone. "Hold on."

****

The phone rang.

Jim jerked into consciousness, shaking his head to quickly clear it of the jungle and the howls of that tiger. 

He sat up and reached for the phone by his bed, but to his surprise the ring cut off.

He listened, and from downstairs he could hear the voice of his partner. "Hello?"

"Blair Sandburg?"

"Uh. Yeah. Who's this?"

"Darien Fawkes."

"I knew it!" Jim exploded from his bed in a burst of anger. He grabbed the robe he kept over the railing and hurried down the stairs. "The bastards are going to shake us down in the middle of the damned night--"

"Jim!" Looking tousled and tired, not to mention annoyed, Blair lowered the phone and glared up at him.. "Dial it down, man."

Jim glared right back at him, but didn't say anything.

"Darien?" Blair shoved his own nervousness down. "What can I do for you?"

"I need your help."

"You what?"

"I…" The other man's voice sounded nervous. "Something's wrong here. I need…God, I don't even know what I need."

Blair frowned and moved to the counter, leaning against it. "Slow down. Just tell me what's wrong."

"Look, we won't say anything about you. We'll tell our Boss that you guys were a couple of phonies, and he'll believe us. He'll believe Bobby, anyway."

Blair relaxed, and he could tell from Jim's dubious look that the Sentinel was listening, and paranoid as ever. "Thanks, man. We owe you for that."

"That's what I was hoping you'd say," Darien replied darkly.

Jim moved in a flash, grabbing the phone from Blair. "What do you want, Fawkes? Is this some kind of shakedown?"

Blair dropped his head and sighed. 

Whatever Darien was saying, it seemed to throw Jim off. He frowned into the phone for a moment. "Uh. Hang on." He handed the phone back to Blair without a word.

Blair took it with eyebrows raised. "Yeah? What's going on?"

"Look, something's wrong with Bobby. He just…went nuts or something, I don't know. He's…he's just laying here staring at the ceiling. I can't get him to snap out of it. And before that, he was freaking out. Like everything was hurting him. My voice, my hand. Something's really wrong. And he said your name. I thought maybe you'd know what was up." Darien kept going before Blair could say anything in response. "I know it sounds nuts, and I don't even know why I'm calling. He said your name, and I don't know what else to do."

Blair's eyes went to Jim, round and shocked. "Hang on, Darien." He lowered the phone. "Did you hear that?"

Jim nodded slowly. "This guy Hobbes…"

"A sentinel. He couldn't be. What's the chance…though…" Blair's mouth was starting to crook into a smile. "That would explain a lot. Jeez, what are the odds? No wonder you two were trying to kill each other the whole time he was here." He brought the phone up before Jim could answer. "Darien?"

"Yeah? Tell me you can help me out here, Sandburg."

"I can help you out," Blair answered obediently. 

"Good. What do I do?"

Blair opened his mouth, but the concise, easy definition of Sentinels and dials and how to control them that he was hoping would magically appear, didn't. 

"Blair? Come on, this is starting to scare me."

"Okay, okay. Uh…so right now he's just frozen, right? Like, zoned out?"

"Yeah. What do I do?"

Blair grimaced slightly. "You have to get him out of it, but that's not a real great solution. Look, there's a lot the two of you are going to have to…" Hell, he didn't even know if Fawkes was supposed to be Hobbes' Guide. He may have just been the nearest person when Bobby's senses went cuckoo. 

There was no way to do this over the phone.

"Hang on, Darien."

The voice on the other end cursed softly, annoyed at the hesitation, but Blair lowered the phone, ignoring him. His eyes went to Jim thoughtfully.

Jim's eyebrows went up. "What?"

"You think Simon would give us tomorrow off?"

Jim's eyes lowered and he sighed fatalistically.

****

Darien was at the door before they could knock, and he threw it open to let Blair and Jim in. "Sandburg. He's still a zombie. You really know what's going on? I've never seen him do anything like this, you know? But his pills were gone, and he--"

"Darien." Blair held up a hand to stop the nervous rambling. "Relax."

Darien nodded quickly. "He's over here. I moved him to the bed, and he didn't even know I was there."

Jim stayed in the background as they approached the bed. He looked down at the zoned-out man he had hated so much at first sight, and was almost fascinated. Hobbes' eyes were open and glassy, and there was no life in his body at all.

Was that what Jim looked like when he zoned? Probably. 

Blair crouched by the bed. "God, I can't believe this. Another one." He glanced back at Jim, excited. "This is number three. You realize that? In how many years? Who knows how many there are walking around the world these days?"

Jim forced himself closer, his hair raising being so close to that man again. Even zoned out, Bobby Hobbes felt like a threat. 

Of course, if there was some chance this guy was really another Sentinel, it was only logical for Jim to feel threatened by him. Or so Blair was saying on the ride over. 

Blair was closer to Hobbes now, talking so quietly Jim couldn't hear the words without dialing up his ears. He was using that low, rhythmic tone he reserved for Jim, trying to talk Hobbes out of the zone.

It wasn't working. Blair reached out and touched his gently on the arm, still talking quietly, but there was no affect.

"Come on!" Darien's voice rang out nervously. "Help him!"

Blair frowned and looked up. "He's not…maybe this isn't what we think it is. Could this be some kind of seizure? Does he have any conditions that would--"

"No! He's not sick, and the pills aren't for anything physical. I'm telling you, this has never happened before."

Blair studied the cataleptic man on the bed. "Has he been in isolation at all recently? A few days alone, maybe? An assignment or vacation or anything?"

Darien shook his head, brow furrowed. "No. We've just been working, like usual. What does that have to do with anything?"

"You're partners." Blair looked up at Darien. "Okay, look, I don't know if this is going to work or not, but come here."

Darien approached quickly, obviously ready to try anything to help his partner out. 

"Sit down. You have to touch him somewhere. Just touch his arm or something."

"I can't. I tried that when I found him like this, and he went nuts."

"He's zoned now. He won't even feel it."

Darien swallowed, but obeyed Blair. He hesitantly brushed a few fingers on Bobby's arm, then relaxed and let his hand rest on his partner as Bobby showed no signs of reacting. 

"Now talk to him."

"Talk to him? What do you want me to say?"

"Anything. Say whatever comes to your mind." Blair sat back, watching intently. It was a test, for all intents and purposes. He knew he could be jumping the gun by labeling Hobbes a Sentinel, and he knew it was pure speculation that if Hobbes was a Sentinel, Darien was his Guide. 

But it was a hunch, and his hunches were usually pretty good. 

"Uh. Crap. Okay." Darien kept his hand on his partner, and it moved slowly up and down his arm as Darien talked. "Bobby? Hey, partner. You're starting to kinda freak me out here. Anytime you want to snap out of it, you're more than welcome, you know?"

Blair kept his eyes on Bobby's face, but the man showed no signs of coming out. 

Darien's hand kept moving unconsciously. "Come on, Hobbes. You know all those times we called you a nutcase? We're kidding. You don't have to go trying to prove us right, okay?"

No response. 

Darien breathed out a sigh of frustration.

Blair sat back, frowning. Darien wasn't his guide. If Hobbes was a Sentinel, maybe his guide was back wherever they came from. California, Jim said. Maybe it was someone else Hobbes knew. A wife, maybe. Another friend…

Even as he was thinking that, Darien focused even more closely on his friend. Something, maybe fear that Bobby might not snap out of this, propelled Darien into being more intent. His voice dropped suddenly, taking on a lower tone. "Come on, Hobbes. Listen to me. You wanted Sandburg; I got Sandburg. Now he says you gotta listen to me, so we're all waiting on you here. Your move, tough guy. Listen to me, Bobby."

Blair moved in closer to Darien. "Keep it up."

"It's not work…" Darien sighed. His grip tightened on his partner. "Bobby. Please, just listen to me. I don't know what's going on here, but you have to snap out of it, pal."

Bobby blinked. His eyes focussed slowly, finding Darien and blinking again. "Wha? What? What's wrong?"

Darien sat back, grinning. "Hey, partner! Nice to see you!"

Bobby sat up easily, shaking his head to clear it. "What time is it? Are we late for--" He saw Blair, and behind them Jim, and his grin faded. "What the hell's going on here?"

Darien glanced behind him, meeting Blair's eyes. "That's exactly what I'd like to know."

Blair smiled, sitting back. "Hope you have time for a long story."

****

"Okay, okay. So we knew Sentinels existed, I can accept that. I saw Ellison there sniff me down just by listening to my heart beat. Along with being really freaky, it was good enough proof for me. But this whole Guide-shaman-jungle thing, it's really losing me."

Jim smiled at that slightly. "I remember that feeling."

"It's easy. It all links back to the original sentinels. Or at least the idea of Burton's sentinels. There have been people who fit the description of Sentinels pre-Burton, of course, but what I figure here is that Jim is somehow descended from the tribesmen Burton wrote about. And Bobby here must be too, or they wouldn't have had so strong a reaction to each other."

"So…what? Hey, you know, I kinda had this dream about a jungle earlier."

"You did?" Blair's eyes lit up. 

Darien grinned back. "Hey, don't get too excited. It was just me and a bunch of animals."

"Jaguar. Wolf. Right?"

Darien's grin faded slightly. "I shouldn't be surprised you know that, should I?"

"What else was there? See, the wolf is my spirit guide, and the jaguar is Jim's. If I knew what else you might have--"

"There was a tiger. I'm pretty sure that was for Hobbes." Jim thought back to his own dream. "And a fox, right?" He looked to Darien for confirmation.

Darien nodded, looking slightly shell-shocked. "And here I've spent a year of my life thinking invisibility is weird. It doesn't have anything on this."

"It's not as weird as it seems. You'll get used to it fast, don't worry."

"So the fox is me?"

Blair nodded. "Looks that way, if you saw the same thing Jim did." He grinned. "It makes sense, actually. The fox is a very chameleon-like animal. It blends in to its surroundings, becomes…invisible. So to speak."

Darien rolled his eyes. "Great. So even my spirit animal guide thing is being influenced by this stupid gland."

"Gland?" Blair sat up. "I don't suppose you'd let us in on the details of this little gland?"

"Uh…even if I understood the details, I'm pretty sure it's not allowed."

"How are you doing with all this?"

Darien and Blair glanced over at Jim as his voice cut through their conversation. He was looking at Bobby, empathy in his eyes. "It's a lot to swallow, I know."

Darien turned to Bobby, realizing his partner had been uncharacteristically quiet this entire time. 

Bobby just shrugged. "Sounds nuts," he said simply. 

Blair studied the agent for a moment, thoughtful. "What I don't understand is why your senses are manifesting themselves now. It could be your close proximity to another Sentinel, but from what I understand of Burton's writings, it takes isolation to bring out the Sentinel abilities. I didn't think anything else could cause them to appear."

Bobby shrugged, not even having to think about it. "My meds."

Blair frowned. "Meds? You're on medication?"

"To say the least," Darien replied dryly.

Bobby glanced over at him, but nodded. "I'm late taking 'em."

"But…" Blair shook his head. "That still shouldn't have brought the senses out in you."

"They didn't. Happened a long time ago. But they--"

"What?" Darien turned surprised eyes to Bobby. "You've known about this for a long time?"

"Not…exactly."

"Bobby, come on."

He raised a hand defensively. "What? It was a long time ago. You don't tell me every little crime you ever pulled."

Darien rolled his eyes, but restrained himself from snapping back. "You think you can share with me now?"

Bobby shifted uncomfortably. "Does it really have anything to do with what's going on now?"

"It might help to know the whole story." It was Blair who replied.

Jim nodded his agreement. "As much as I resented it at first, you really should share everything with your guide, at least. You two are gonna have to get a lot closer, and you shouldn't have any secrets. Especially secrets related to this whole thing."

"Crap." Bobby breathed out, dropping his head. 

"Can't be that bad, Hobbes." Darien took in his partner's expression, and his grin faded. "Can it?"

Bobby shrugged. "Not that bad, I guess. Just not something I like talkin' about, you know?"

Jim spoke quietly. "I know."

Bobby glanced at him, annoyed, but saw the expression on the ex-military man and sighed. 

"Bobby."

He turned to Darien. 

The usual light-hearted brown eyes of his partner were solemn. "You've got to trust me, partner."

"Come on, Fawkes. You know I trust you." His eyes went to Blair and Jim unconsciously. 

Blair didn't fail to notice. "Listen, Bobby…" He paused, as if looking for permission to call the agent by his first name.

Bobby waved his okay impatiently. 

"Bobby. We've been through this before, all right? Jim went through hell before and after his senses went on line. If you want our help, we'll give it to you. It'll help a lot if we know everything about what's going on."

"All right, all right." Bobby sat up, his elbows resting on his knees. He rubbed his face for a moment, looking like he was bracing himself. "Alright. It was '91. I was doing my second stretch of time in Lebanon." He hesitated.

Darien met his eyes and nodded encouragingly. 

Bobby blew out a breath. "I was a stupid kid. Saw a lot of shit, but never stopped to think anything would happen to me. You know?" He looked at Jim briefly.

Jim smiled faintly and nodded. "Hard to believe we were ever like that."

Bobby echoed the nod. "So I was in the middle of the worst shit you can imagine, thinking nothing was gonna touch me. One day this car pulls up right beside me, and that was it."

***

"Get in! Get in! I shoot, I shoot."

"Okay, okay. Take it easy." Lieutenant Robert Hobbes raised his hands, swallowing a rush of fear. 

This was trouble. This was deep trouble. 

The young man looked like any other kid walking around the war-torn streets of Lebanon. Scruffy, pockmarked, with an uneven black beard and a hawk-like nose. "_Yallah, _get down!"

He was shoved into a car, and a dirty blanket thrown over him. A foot from one of the other men in the car clamped down on his head, keeping him close to the floor of the car as it took off.

The car spun through the streets, the men in the car were mostly silent. Occasional bursts of rapid-fire Arabic rang out, and someone would kick at him and say again, "Stay down. Down."

The entire time, Hobbes' mind was spinning. Deep shit. Jesus, this was serious.

He had been stationed in Lebanon for a couple of months now, but he knew the routine well enough. Although there was an Omega Company officially assigned to plan the rescue of American hostages taken in Lebanon over the last seven years, the company Bobby was assigned to had a smaller, more covert role in the hostage situation.

And now it looked like he was about to become a closer part of it than he'd wanted to, at the worst possible time.

Echo Company was in shambles. The CO had been blown to smithereens by a car bomb days ago, right in front of Bobby's eyes. The bombs flying on the streets, the suicide bombers attacking US barracks and Consulates, the threats against the American University and the few remaining US citizens in Lebanon, they were all causing a huge mess in the formerly rigid military presence. 

Bobby Hobbes had moved up in the ranks during the last months. He was damned good at his job, and was one of the only men in his company who hadn't put in a request to get stationed somewhere else. Despite the fact that he had a wife back in the States, he knew where his duty was. 

He tried to follow the turns he could feel the car making, but a part of his mind was distracted trying to translate the excited outbursts of the Lebanese kids in the car with him, and he lost the trail. 

Once the car stopped, the men climbed out, and the foot pressing his head against the carpeted car floor vanished, to be replaced by hands yanking him up. 

The blanket slipped off his head, and he caught a quick glimpse of dark-complected young men before a hand reached out and slapped him in the face. "No look!"

Bobby opened his mouth to defend himself, but the hand slapped him again, the blanket was thrown back into place, and the excitable men manhandled him out of the hot sun and inside some building he couldn't see.

He was pushed and dragged, stumbling against steps he couldn't see, and finally shoved into a room and released.

He knew better than to try to uncover his eyes, and stayed still, breathing heavily and ignoring the pounding in his chest as hands reappeared, patting him down roughly. 

His ID was found and removed, and he swallowed against a rush of panic. He wasn't in his uniform, but they would see his ID and know he was military. That wouldn't be good.

Sure enough, excited voices began jabbering in the strange language, and the few words Bobby recognized were lost in the torrent of voices. 

"No look!" The voice hissed in his ear suddenly.

"I'm not looking," Bobby replied quickly. 

"No look," the voice stressed, and hands reached for the blanket over his head.

He kept his eyes squeezed shut tightly as he felt sunlight on his face. He knew they'd be watching him, and that was the only thing keeping him from opening his eyes as the blanket was removed and a thick strip of fabric was tied tightly over his eyes. 

"_Ma ismak?_" A voice appeared close to his face.

Bobby shook his head. "_Tehki Inglisi?_"

"Your name."

"Robert Hobbes."

"Who you work for?"

Bobby swallowed. He was scared. He was downright petrified. For months he'd studied the hostage situation. He and Echo Company had traded notes with Omega, talked to the few hostages released by now, talked to people who witnessed the kidnappings. He knew how this worked. He knew these men would kill in an instant.

But he also knew they had seen his wallet. They knew he was military. There was no way to get out of this. 

"Who?" the voice asked again, louder. 

Hands reached out and grabbed the front of Bobby's shirt, ripping buttons as they yanked it off. Next went his shoes, and then his jeans. 

He was shoved back against a wall, and a hand appeared on his shoulder, forcing him down to sit on the floor. 

"Who you work for?"

Bobby's hands were grabbed, and the strange, sharp sound of packing tape being yanked near his head made him flinch. The tape appeared at his wrists, and circled his hands until they were securely taped together, so tight that his fingers were tingling with lack of blood before they were even done. 

And still the voice waited for an answer. "Who you work for?"

Bobby swallowed again, his eyes clenching shut tightly under the blindfold. He had wanted to make it out of here alive, make it back to his wife and his home.

__

Sorry, Viv. 

"I'm a Lieutenant in the United States Marines."

The voices were silenced for a moment.

Bobby looked out with blind eyes, holding his breath against the sudden quiet. 

"_La_!" A voice sounded sharply, breaking the silence.

A voice way too close to Bobby answered back in a torrent of Arabic, and was cut off by the first man again. 

Bobby's body was tight, tense. That man was going to kill him. Jesus, he just knew it. He was tied, blind, helpless. 

He wasn't scared of death. Never had been. He just wanted to be able to see it coming. 

The first voice spoke again, and Bobby could tell it was directed at him. "You are a spy."

"No. I'm a soldier." _Just like you, accept maybe with a little morals_.

He wasn't dumb enough to say that out loud, of course. 

"Why you here?"

If he hadn't been ready to wet his boxers in fear, he would have laughed. "You brought me here."

A sharp sting registered in his cheek. These men were slap-happy, literally. "Why this country?"

"I was stationed here." He kept his voice low.

"Who you work for?"

"I won't tell you that."

"Give us names, we let you go."

Bobby did laugh that time. "Not happening, pal."

The voice was quiet.

Bobby held his breath again, listening for any movement at all in front of him.

Another flurry of Arabic sounded out near him, and he was grabbed by his taped hands and yanked to his feet. Bony fingers dug into his bare shoulders as they propelled him away and into another room.

He could hear the metallic clanking of chains, and his heart clenched. This was it. He was part of this now. One of too many Americans caught and held by unwashed boys who were fighting a foreign power they couldn't possibly understand or hope to beat.

He was pushed back to the ground, and his foot was grabbed. The cold, heavy feel of metal clinched around his ankle.

The tape was ripped off his hands, and he flinched as it pulled off hairs on his arms as it went. 

He was forced closer to the ground, and his wrists were chained close together. A hand reached out and slapped his face once, then again, and footsteps pounded away from him. 

A door was shut. Silence fell over the dark world Bobby was suddenly in.

He didn't move. Suspecting a trick, he stayed frozen, only the pounding in his chest and his erratic breathing broke the stale silence as he struggled to listen for another presence in that room with him. 

His thoughts were going a mile a minute. _Hobbes, you stupid fucker. This is deep. This is too deep for you, you dumb shit. _

It was his own fault. He had only been walking the short distance to the US Consulate from where he'd escorted one of the few remaining diplomats to an apartment complex less than a block away.

Someone had to have seen him taken. But that wasn't much consolation. There were witnesses to the other kidnappings, and those men had yet to be found. Some of them had been missing for five or six years.

The thought made his breathing suddenly more shallow. Six years. Jesus. How the hell could he survive something like this? 

No good thinking like that, though. He hadn't been here for a day; it was no good driving himself nuts by thinking he might be there for years. 

Vivian. 

If he was stuck, if he really didn't see daylight for weeks or months or even years, would she still be there? Would she wait for him?

__

God, don't do this to me. I don't know what I did to piss you off so bad, but I can't lose her. I can't lose my freedom. I'll die here. Please, get me out of this.

*

It was late the second day that he realized they weren't coming back.

The silence closed in around him, the chains on his wrists and ankle grew excruciatingly heavy. Every beat of his heart was like a drum.

He was alone. Abandoned. Forgotten about in the middle of some slum in downtown Lebanon. He would die, of thirst, of hunger, something. 

He was alone. Alone. 

It hit him that night, to the point where he would have pounded the walls until his hands bled -- if he could have reached the walls.

The immediate fright passed, though, giving way to a kind of numbness. At least an end would be reached. At least he wouldn't have to deal with this for any more months or years. It was a horrible way to go, but not as bad as some. 

He fell asleep that night, and woke up the next day weak and tired and hungry, his throat pleading for a touch of water. 

The day passed in a fever state, of quiet and darkness. He started feeling unbearably hot, but he couldn't have done anything about it but strip his boxers down, and he wouldn't do that.

So he laid there. He thought about Viv, and how much he wished he could see her one last time. He figured she would be heartbroken. But she was young, beautiful. She'd find someone else eventually. Which was good. She shouldn't be unhappy. 

And it would probably be better for her to find someone new than to have to deal with whatever fragment of Bobby Hobbes they would have sent back to her. 

It was a shame, though. He had been thinking of going Fed. He'd had the offer from a man his father had known in the Bureau, and being a Fed appealed to him. He had been planning the end of his soldier life, the start of maybe a family and a real career. It would have been nice to know if he could have done it.

But, oh, well.

He fell asleep sometime hours later with that fatalistic attitude, and he had woken up in an agony like nothing he had ever known before.

****

Bobby leaned back against the wall, his eyes on the wall of the hotel room. "That's it."

Darien had moved closer to his partner during his story, his shock evident. "Jesus, Bobby."

Bobby shrugged. "Wasn't that bad, really. Not until I woke up in that cell, and…" He paused. "It's hard to put into words. The cell was dark, but even darkness was so bright it hurt. The silence was too loud. I could hear every beat of my heart, and it hurt. I could feel the chains and my clothes and it hurt so much I was screaming. It felt like acid." He frowned. "I can't exaplin it right. You just can't imagine how it felt."

Jim spoke up. "I can. I know what you're saying, Hobbes."

Bobby's answering glance showed his appreciation, but there was no doubting that Bobby was only really worried about Darien understanding. "So I was sitting there screaming, and the screams hurt even more. I thought I'd lost it totally. I mean…" He met Darien's eyes. "Everyone thinks I'm nuts, Fawkes. And I don't argue with 'em. 'Cause that's what I thought myself, until I heard about him." He nodded towards Ellison. "And I knew when I'd lost my mind. One minute I was in that cell of a room in Lebanon, next thing I know I'm on the ground in some jungle."

Blair leaned forward, his eyes glittering in interest. 

"There was this tiger. By the time I realized what was going on the thing was right by me, sniffing me like I was dinner. But I wasn't really scared of it, you know? I figured it was a dream. Some part of me realized I was still locked in a closet in Beirut."

Jim made a small noise of agreement, remembering the feeling well.

"So the thing started moving, and I figured I had to follow it. I knew it had to be a dream 'cause I kept up with it, and there was this temple thing. A ruin."

Blair nodded eagerly.

"It was almost familiar. I'd been in a jungle before -- Marine training sent me to South America for a few weeks -- but I'd never seen any kind of ruins." He glanced at Blair. "You know what I'm talking about?" His eyes went to Jim. "You seen that temple?"

"We've been there," Jim answered simply. 

Bobby nodded, no longer surprised by that point. "And then some voice rang out, asking me something about accepting my destiny. I couldn't remember it later, not in exact words, but I said something about just wanting to go home to my wife. 'Stuff my destiny, I just want to live.' Something like that." He smiled faintly. "Then it was over. The jungle was gone. The door to my cell opened and there were a bunch of concerned, shaven, clean, American by-God faces."

Blair grinned. "That's great. I mean, it's not great. You know what I mean. This supports everything we've figured out working with Jim. It supports Burton's…" He trailed off, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry. So what happened? Did your senses just disappear?"

"For a while. I got sent home, I was discharged, and I went to Quantico." He grinned suddenly, looking at Darien. "You shoulda seen me, kid. You wouldn't recognize me. I was the pride of my father, a ready Fed. Jones on his most anal day couldn't have touched me."

Darien laughed faintly at that.

"I was ready to take on the world. But suddenly it happened again. My clothes were burning through my skin, and the sun sliced into my eyes. The sounds of voices, the hearts beating, the sound of insects, footsteps, they all reached this deafening point, until I was curled on the ground, holding my ears and screaming for it to stop. Just like in that cell. Only this time there were people all around me. They threw me in the nuthatch and watched me for hours. And for hours I just sat there, too scared to move in case the sound of my clothes rustling deafened me again. I knew then that I had to be nuts."

"What did you do?"

"Nothin'. They gave him a shot, and it all went away."

"A shot."

Bobby nodded. "This lovely cocktail of lithium, Zoloft, and various other anti-psychotics, which I've taken faithfully ever since then. And I'm fine when I'm on it. Until I get dehydrated, or I'm late taking one of my pills. Then I get flashes of it, you know? I can see sewing needles under a few inches of soot, or figure out where a sniper is by hearing his heart beat. Stuff like that. Just enough to scare the shit out of me."

Darien blew out a breath. "So all this time you really did think you were crazy."

"Hell, yeah. Truly insane. But I didn't want anyone else to know. God knew what the Boss would do if I came in blabbing about heartbeats."

"And that's why you were so set against this assignment."

Bobby's eyes went to Jim. "Yeah. This Sentinel thing -- it hit a little too close to home. Here's a guy claiming to be as crazy as I'm fighting not to be, and the Boss wants him like he's the next Darien Fawkes -- the next big prize, the next secret weapon."

Jim's expression hardened somewhat at that. "Which is something else we need to talk about."

Bobby grinned at that. "Relax, Ellison. You think we're gonna rat on you now?"

Jim shrugged. "I don't know."

Blair laughed. "Jim, come on. We've got these guys over a barrel." He grinned at Darien and Bobby. "A federal agent who's a sentinel with a guide who goes invisible at will. This is great."

"Yeah. Great." Bobby grimaced, but didn't take his eyes off Jim. "Look, I figure there's a reason I was so defensive with you. Something related to this sentinel thing. But we're cool now. We're good. I'll tell my boss that you're a phony, and you won't ever hear from us again."

Darien relaxed slightly at that.

Blair shook his head. "No, no. We have to work on this. Me and Jim can help you get your senses back to full power. We can train you to use your--"

"No."

"--abilities on the job. We can…" Blair stopped, blinking. "No?"

"No. We're gonna get out of here, and you're never gonna hear from us again. That's it." Bobby sat up straighter, his professional face back on. 

"Bobby, come on." Darien spoke up. "This is so damned cool. You could learn to do everything this guy can do."

"I said no." Bobby was firm. "We're goin' fine the way we are. I've got a lifetime prescription for the meds I need, and I'm gonna keep taking 'em. I ain't driving myself nuts like that again."

"You don't have to drive yourself nuts, Bobby." Blair leaned in earnestly. "I can help you. Darien here is your Guide, we know that. With both of us with you, we can train you to be--"

"Sandburg. It ain't happening." Bobby stopped Darien's protest before it could start. "No. No way in hell. You got that, everyone? I've been through that once, and I ain't doing it again. Now, if you don't mind, you two need to get out of here so me and Fawkes can get back home, so I can get to my pills, so I don't have to worry about this again."

****

"Weird day, huh?"

Jim laughed. "To say the least. You still upset?"

Blair shrugged as they entered the loft. He flipped on the light and trudged in. "I can't believe he was so stubborn."

"I can."

He stopped at that, turning to his partner. "You can?"

Jim nodded. "Chief, if you had given me a choice back when we first met, I would have done almost anything not to have to deal with these senses. If I had known some kind of anti-psychotics would take care of it, we may not be here right now."

Blair's blue eyes were wide with unpleasant surprise. "You hate it that much?"

Jim grinned. "I said, when we first met. I know now, Chief, but I'm not about to start chewing lithium tablets, you know? I'm fine. We're good how we are. But I'm used to it now, and he's not. And it's really scary at first."

"Still…" Blair blew out a breath, finishing his trek into the living room and onto the couch. "We've found another Sentinel. A good guy this time, and we still won't learn anything from him."

"Darien said he'd talk to him, right?"

"Yeah, but he also said he didn't think it would do any good."

"Just leave it alone, Chief. If it happens, it happens. I can't blame Hobbes for choosing to dope it away like that."

Blair looked up as Jim dropped on the couch beside him. "That's the problem." He sat up. "Jim, being a Sentinel isn't just about hearing things no one else can hear. It's a genetic imperative. It's built in, and it's not something that can be doped away. There's a spiritual level here. Incacha, the jungles, they wouldn't have let you drown your sorrows in alcohol or drugs or anything else. It's fate that your senses came out. It's fate that Bobby's will, too. If he fights it, it'll just be harder."

Jim sighed. "Yeah. That may be. But it's his choice to make, and he was pretty firm about it. For his sake I hope Fawkes can talk some sense into him, but if he can't, he can't."

"I know." Blair dropped his head back against the cushions of the sofa. "This is gonna explode on him. I know it."

****

"Bobby…"

"Stop it, Fawkes."

"Stop what?"

"Stop with that look. That you-don't-know-what-you're-doing-but-lucky-you-you-have-me-here-to-talk-sense-into-you look. I hate that look."

Darien obediently tried to transform his expression. "Happy? Bobby, look--"

"See, now you've dropped the look but you've picked up that listen-to-me-cause-I-know-better-than-you-do-what's-good-for-you tone in your voice. I hate that tone."

Darien breathed out, annoyed. "I don't have any tones in my voice, Hobbes. Come on."

"Sure you do. I can hear it. And I've got pretty good ears, remember?"

"No you don't. You've got a head full of frigging medication. Remember?"

Bobby smirked. "You never had a problem with that before."

"That was before."

"Jesus, kid." Bobby blew out a sigh. "You really aren't gonna let this drop, are you?"

"Nope. Blair says you're gong to live to regret it if you deny what's going on with you. He says you could hurt yourself trying to keep it buried, and if it comes out some time when you can't control it, you'll hurt yourself even more."

"Even more than what?" Bobby's eyes flashed with anger suddenly. "You guys don't know what the hell you're talking about. Ellison's the only one who knows what it's like. I can't go through that crap again, Darien. I got no control of it, and it hurts like hell. I'm not losing my mind like that." He met Darien's eyes suddenly. "You know what it's like. It'd be like me asking you to quit the counteragent cold turkey. If I do this, I'll go nuts. I know it."

Darien grimaced, but the comparison had its desired affect. "It really scares you that much?"

Surprisingly enough, Bobby didn't give one of his typical 'Bobby Hobbes ain't scared of nothing' responses. He just nodded. "Scares the hell out of me. I'm crazy enough without it." He returned Darien's gaze somberly. "Don't ask me to go through that again, kid. It isn't worth it."

Darien hesitated, but nodded finally. "Yeah. All right, Bobby. If that's what you want."

Bobby relaxed at that, sitting back against the chair.

Darien shifted his large frame uncomfortably in the small airplane chair. He was troubled. Blair's warnings about what Bobby was doing were serious, but Bobby's reasons for his choices were serious. There wasn't any good way to win this one. They'd just have to go on like usual and hope Blair was wrong about his predictions.

If Blair was right, and the gods of the sentinels or whoever they were came after Bobby and started driving him nuts, Darien would be there. He was Bobby's guide, according to Blair. It was his job.

No, hell with that. He was Bobby's partner, and his friend. He'd be there no matter what.

Darien just couldn't shake the feeling that, if and when this thing came back to haunt them, it wouldn't be enough.


End file.
